


Admitting Impediments

by TW Lewis (gardendoor)



Series: Satan and Lucifer [4]
Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-08
Updated: 2003-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-29 05:49:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardendoor/pseuds/TW%20Lewis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magnus's child is not all she appears to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: They're Marvel's. Pity them. This is the fourth story in my "Satan and Lucifer" series. Thanks goes to Luba Kmetyk for beta reading.
> 
> WARNING! This story contains a brief but graphic rape flashback.

Scott, Warren, Bobby and Hank had been sitting around in their 'bumblebee' body armor, joking together, but when Magnus entered the Danger Room holding Meggan's hand, the jokes died instantly. "When did you guys come back from Scotland?" asked Scott, leaping up. "Meggan, how're you feeling?"

"We flew in barely an hour ago," said Magnus. He knelt beside Meggan. "You can go rest if you want."

"I can do it," Meggan protested, "I'm feeling better. Moira said there wasn't anything wrong with me." She tugged at the skirt of her black and yellow uniform and lifted her chin proudly. "I can do it," she repeated.

Magnus squeezed her hand and walked out the door and up to the control booth.

"In light of Meggan's absence, today I will test individual skills rather than teamwork," Charles said into the microphone. "Warren, I'm placing the hoops a little closer together to strengthen your maneuvering capabilities. Bobby, you have to disable these flame jets. Hank, the mechanical barbell will test the strength of your feet, not your hands. Scott, I want you to drill tiny holes all the way through this metal block. By the time you're done, the block should be a fragile lattice you can crush with your hand, with none of the holes touching and none of them larger than a nickel. Preferably smaller. We'll work more with moving targets next time. Meggan, I'm giving you a weaker version of Bobby's flame jets. I want you to make your body more heat-tolerant so that you can pass through the fire, but don't attempt it until you stop feeling the heat as you approach. You will all be graded on your performance and on the time it takes you to complete your tests. Begin!"

Magnus concealed a scowl behind his hand. He'd barely slept in three days, but that had nothing to do with his foul mood. Considering that these children were supposed to form an elite fighting force, Charles wasn't pushing or teaching them nearly hard enough. Even when he supposedly taught them teamwork, he would give them simple, stupid tasks, like giving each of them a test that was obviously meant for the other's powers, and waiting for them to leap to the obvious conclusion and switch places. Magnus had tried to make suggestions early on, but Charles had cut him off in mid-sentence: "Perhaps those tactics were necessary in the camps, Magnus, but this is America, and these are teenagers. We can teach them without traumatizing them." And barely a breath later, Charles had complained that Magnus never contributed to their shared teaching responsibilities! Was he still angry that Magnus had prevented him from inviting Jean to join the school? Didn't he realize that these children would have to fight for their survival someday? If they worked for the government, they would be assigned to bring in ruthless criminals or do jobs deemed to dangerous for mere humans. The children had to be prepared.

Magnus shoved that concern from his mind when he saw the telemetry readouts from the children's body armor.

"Magnus?" said Charles, "I believe it's time we talked."

"She's doing fine," said Magnus through gritted teeth, watching Meggan's erratic heart rate on the monitor, "She's the youngest, the newest, and the only girl. Just give her time."

Creating a heat-tolerant body should have been difficult for Meggan, but within her limits. Instead, every time one of the boys came within five feet of her, she matched their bodies and powers, suddenly growing Warren's wings, or Hank's large, muscular body. She didn't even seem to notice until Scott's optic blasts shot through her eyes, destroying the machinery in front of her. Then she curled up crying on the floor.

At that point the boys all maneuvered out of their various tests and came over to Meggan, awkwardly comforting her and trying to get her to stand up again. Charles hit the automatic stop button, and all the tests came to a halt.

Magnus ran downstairs and picked up Meggan's tiny body, cradling her in his arms. She clung to him, not even crying now, just trembling like a broken bird. "What's happening to me?" she whispered.

"It's going to be all right," Magnus soothed.  


  
"Let's bring her to the infirmary," said Charles. "Boys, practice is over for now. I suggest you all go study. You have tests next week, after all."

*****

There were times when Charles was intensely grateful that he was the only telepath in the house. That fact allowed him to phrase his thoughts perfectly before anyone could respond to them. He desperately needed that advantage now.

Charles was amazed when Magnus agreed to talk instead of yelling that everything was fine, the way he'd done all week. The boys left silently, without their usual joking, glancing back at Meggan worriedly as they exited. Scott stayed behind.  


  
"Scott, go with the others," said Magnus as he began walking down the hall to the infirmary.  


  
"She's my sister now," said Scott. "A family should take care of each other, right?"  


  
Magnus stopped and laid his free hand on Scott's shoulder. "Your feelings are commendable, Scott, but Charles and I will work better together if we work alone. You can visit Meggan later if you want. You might want to read to her again."

Scott nodded and squeezed Meggan's hand before following his friends.  


  
In the infirmary, Charles drew blood and took samples, looking for any clue of what might be wrong. "I want to call Moira again. It's obvious this isn't psychosomatic." Every time they'd taken Meggan to see Moira, her symptoms had disappeared. Until now, they'd written it off as homesickness for lack of better theories. "I'm definitely seeing major deterioration on the cellular level," said Charles. "But that's more Moira's field than mine. We have to take her there for long-term observation and treatment." No objections yet from Magnus, who paced back and forth beside the examination table. Charles decided to press his advantage. "And I want to probe her mind."  


  
"Absolutely not, Charles." Magnus snapped.  


  
"Magnus, we need to know about her past medical history, and we've already established that her memories are naturally too shattered and chaotic for her to answer verbal questions about her past. I need to get inside her head, so I can make better sense of--"

"I said I don't want you inside my daughter's mind," said Magnus. "The matter is closed."

Charles drew Magnus away from the examination table and spoke to him in a level murmur. "Magnus, you are the most paranoid, suspicious person I know. And yet you accepted that this girl is your daughter because some gypsy witch told you so, and because this girl, who looks like whatever others want her to, looks like your dead daughter, Anya. Not to mention the fact that Meggan looks and acts like she's four, whereas your child should be ten years old."  


  
"I told you, the gypsies who raised her treated her like an animal. She's just malnourished and under-socialized," said Magnus.  


  
"That's the least likely explanation. Is that why you won't allow me to probe her mind? Because you're afraid I'll find out she's not really your child, and you'll have to start searching again?"

Magnus's hands clenched into fists at his sides. "I won't let you into her mind," he said, "because I don't want you to do to her what you did to Gabrielle Haller."  


  
Charles stepped back, enraged. "Now you listen to me, Magnus," he hissed. "Yes, I slept with a patient. One patient. An adult woman. I have never molested children, and if you ever accuse me of that again--"

"Gabrielle was a child," Magnus hissed, keeping his voice down so Meggan couldn't hear. "In her mind, if not in her body. And Jean Grey was a child too, and don't tell me you didn't have urges, playing around in that prepubescent mind of hers."  


  
Charles could feel the blood pulsing behind his eyes, the tightness in his chest. He was never so close to committing murder in his entire life.  


  
Instead he forced himself to breathe normally and turn back to Meggan's samples. Her cells, unstable when he'd done his baseline tests upon her arrival, were now falling apart completely, cells rupturing and reforming uncontrollably. Meggan was clearly in pain, shivering and whimpering on the examination table, creating tentacles, fur, scales, with no pattern or balance. She might very well be dying.

"I'm done examining her," said Charles softly. He put out a light mental call for Scott. The teenaged orphan, who now called Magnus father and Meggan sister, had shown great maturity, helping out whenever needed. And the others had shown a care and sensitivity Charles had often believed teenaged boys incapable of. "I've called Scott, Magnus. He can stay with Meggan. I want to give her a light sedative, and then you and I need to talk."

*****

Charles closed the door of his study and offered Magnus a seat. He pulled up a leather armchair next to Magnus's and took a deep breath. "Meggan's condition has deteriorated ever since you brought her here. Something is clearly wrong, but she shows no sign of infection or disease of any kind that I can identify. We need to contact the gypsies who raised her, to find out if this sort of thing has happened before, and I need to probe her mind, to see if she has even a garbled idea of what's wrong with her."

"I'll leave immediately," said Magnus. "I should take her with me, in case her condition worsens."

"Your paternal devotion and concern are commendable, Magnus, but I think we shall get better results if I go."

Magnus laughed. "You? You're going to win the trust of Gypsies? You're an outsider!"

"I'm also a telepath. They might not tell you everything, and we don't have time to run around in circles. Meggan's condition is grave."

"I'm not leaving her alone with you. So what do you want to do? Travel together, the two of us, Meggan, and all four of the boys, across the British Isles looking for the right kumpania?"  


  
"No. I want you to take care of the school while I'm gone."  


  
Magnus stared at him.  


  
"We have to keep the school open," said Charles, "And we can't drag the boys overseas without their parents raising all kinds of objections."  


  
Magnus opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. It was the first time in a long time that Charles had seen his friend at a loss for words. Then he jerked his head. "Meggan is an empath, she'll sense your desires and comply with them, whether they're --"

"No. You're not going to hold this over me any longer. We're going to settle this once and for all. I made a mistake. That doesn't make me a child molester. Now either you take my word on that and never again insinuate that I am anything less than a decent and honorable man, or we open our minds to each other and you see for yourself. Look inside my mind and let me look inside yours."

"And let you meddle with my thoughts, my personality? No."  


  
"Magnus, either you trust me or you don't. Now open your mind or get out of my house. I'm tired of your having it both ways."  


  
Magnus paused for a long moment. "Can I shut you out of some parts of my mind?"  


  
"If you could, would you trust that what I showed you of myself was the whole truth?"

Pale blue eyes, so like his own, bore into Charles. "My friend, I have done terrible things in the name of survival. I would not court your disgust."

Charles was startled. For the first time in all the years they'd argued over it, Magnus had given him an answer other than a flat 'no' or verbal fencing. Charles chose his words with utmost care. "Magnus, you lived through terrible times. Whatever I see in your mind, I will temper it with the knowledge that you became a nobler, kinder man, one whom I hold as a colleague and friend."

Like a heavy door on rusty locks, Magnus's mind painfully creaked open. Charles could feel Magnus's control warring with his fear, trying to let Charles in without exposing himself to an attack.  


  
Charles sent out his lightest mental probe, a soft touch on the edge of Magnus's mind. He'd waited so long for this. Gently, he sent out his own thoughts along the probe, feeding Magnus exactly as much as he was taking and allowing the two men to acclimate. _Magnus, I'm going to set up a mind link. It will allow you to explore my mind as deeply as I explore yours._

Magnus made a strange sound in his throat. His mind slammed shut, and he was out of his chair and across the room, staring at Charles wide-eyed.

"Magnus, calm down." Charles spread his hands and spoke in a level, soothing voice. "Tell me what's wrong. We agreed to share our thoughts, this is the best way to do so."

Magnus kept staring at him, unseeing. The cords in his neck stood out in sharp definition.  


  
"It's all right. I won't do anything you don't agree to. Take your time, and tell me what's wrong."  


  
Magnus pounded a fist against his own leg in obvious frustration, then sat down. A red tinge colored his cheeks. Magnus was clearly humiliated about something, but what? Something was obviously wrong, probably a deep psychological trauma. Magnus hated showing weakness of any kind, especially to Charles. Magnus took a piece of paper and a pen from the desk and scribbled something, then handed the paper back to Charles. It said, 'I tried to say yes. My throat locked up. I won't be able to speak for a while.'  


  
"Has this happened before?" asked Charles.

Magnus's mental defenses slammed shut to the point where Charles couldn't even sense him in the room. Magnus stood up, but Charles caught his arm. He couldn't let Magnus go now. With Meggan's illness forcing action upon them, this was the best time for them to tackle the mistrust that had crippled their friendship for years. The memory of Scott's first night in the mansion sparked an idea. "Whatever it is, Magnus, I promise not to judge it. I wasn't there."  


  
Magnus closed his eyes and took deep breaths, massaging his throat. Finally he opened his eyes and whispered, "He said he'd send me to be shot if I screamed. The first time, it was months before my throat unlocked enough for me to speak, even in the barracks. And even with Magda … always in silence."

"He raped you?" Charles asked, trying to clarify. Magnus didn't respond. "And your subconscious interpreted psychic intimacy as…" he trailed off, uncertain of what word to use. Magnus thought Charles's mind probe was intimate? Sexual? Not for the first time, Charles tried to guess Magnus's age. He couldn't be more than thirty, maybe younger. He'd probably been in his early teens when it had happened. Frightened, impressionable. Scott's age. More importantly, Jean's age. Did he see Charles's relationship with Jean through the warped lens of his own youth? Now it all made sense. His mistrust of Charles had nothing to do with Gaby. He simply saw all authority figures as sexual deviants and molesters.  


  
Charles sat back in his chair, lost in thought. Magnus was a catamite. A weak personality, used to seducing others instead of trying to lead them. No wonder he always deferred to Charles.  


  
"You lied to me, Charles," said Magnus quietly. His voice was returning, and with it his confidence. Charles resisted the urge to squirm under Magnus's sharp stare. "You said you wouldn't judge me."  


  
Charles stared at Magnus. "I--"  


  
And the rusty doors creaked open once more. Wide open. "You've already judged me. It can't hurt to show you what you've judged." A confident smirk. "Or are you the one who really feared this mind-link?"  


  
Charles pushed forward, preparing for the same subconscious defenses he'd just encountered in Magnus's mind.  


  
Charles knelt on the floor, something huge caught in his throat. He tried to swallow to clear the obstruction, and someone grunted appreciatively and grabbed Charles's hair even tighter. He was suddenly aware of a strong, mixed odor. Part of it was sweat and male musk, coming from the body that shoved itself into his mouth. But underneath, a sharp odor of rotting flesh and explosives. The stench of the lime pits he'd be shot and buried in if he didn't do his best to make Friedrich happy.  


  
Charles fought to free himself, to hide back in his own mind, and suddenly it was his foster father, Marko, beating him on the kitchen floor as he tried to shield his mother's body from the blows. The belt buckle whipped out, stabbing his flesh over and over.  


  
And then he was in hell. Living bodies screamed and burned as he poured their own fat over them to make them burn faster.  


  
And he was in his mother's mind, feeling the love and fear she felt towards the man who beat her. Feeling those emotions as though they were his own, trapped between denying them and trying to soothe his mother's pain.  


  
And he was back on the concrete floor of the back room of the factory, on his knees in front of Friedrich, knowing that his own list of crimes was as long as that of the man he was bribing to keep him alive. He was no better.  


  
Charles found himself back in his study. He and Magnus were both staring at each other across the desk, terrified and horrified, covered in sweat and panting like racehorses.  


  
Magnus cleared his throat. "I believe I owe you an apology, Charles. I'd thought you were a sheltered, sanctimonious man who passed judgment on what you couldn't understand. I hadn't realized you carried your own demons with you."  


  
"What I saw…" Charles shook his head. "How could you have memories of killing Jews and burning their bodies? You were a Jew too."

"I was underage. Weak. I wouldn't have survived manual labor and a starvation diet. But I was a pretty boy." He spat the words bitterly. "Friedrich got me past the first inspection and into the Sonderkommando in return for favors. I bought the privilege of leading grandfathers to the gas showers and pulling gold teeth from their wives by giving Friedrich sexual gratification." His icy sarcasm eased a little as he continued, "The Sonderkommando were guaranteed life for as long as they worked. And I wanted to live. Once you joined the Sonderkommando, you couldn't quit. The Nazis killed any who tried." Charles caught a stray thought from Magnus that he'd saved lives when he could, followed by a sharp self-rebuke that every life he'd saved was bought with a hundred deaths.  


  
"You had no choice," said Charles. "If they hadn't chosen you, they would have chosen someone to do their dirty work."  


  
"What good is my guilt? If a serial murderer came to his trial and said, 'I killed ten people, but I'm sorry I did it,' would he be set free? These Nazis they're bringing for trial, the ones who were just following orders? I was just following orders!"

Charles offered his hand across the desk. "I think I owe you and Scott an apology," said Charles. "I refused to see that you were trying to stay alive. I think I was afraid to admit that if my stepfather's proclivities had run that way, I would have done the same. I think what you endured was terrible, Magnus. But I'm glad you took them up on their obscene offer. My life, and Gabrielle's, and Scott's, and Meggan's, would have been much poorer without you."  


  
Magnus took Charles's hand and opened his mind again. "Meggan," he reminded Charles.  


  
"I think we should rest first. Compose and center ourselves," said Charles.

"We don't have time. Meggan doesn't have time."  


  
Charles couldn't stand the thought of drowning in both their nightmares a second time, which was exactly what would happen if they had no time to prepare. He searched for an alternative. "Why not simply ask me? If I keep the link open, you'll sense if I answer a question dishonestly."  


  
Magnus frowned for a moment. Charles could feel Magnus's skepticism, but finally Magnus asked, "What is the nature of your feelings for Jean Grey?"

"She's my patient and my student. I care for her well being," said Charles. But he was shocked to find, echoed in Magnus's mind, his own dishonesty. He furrowed his brow, trying to choose better words. "I want to protect her…" That felt closer to the truth, but not completely there yet.  


  
"Is there a difference between your feelings for Jean and your feelings for Gabrielle?" asked Magnus.

"Of course there is! Jean is a child!" Charles snapped automatically. He stopped short at the honesty of that, trying to integrate it into his earlier attempts. "I think when I see those qualities in an adult woman, I feel an attraction. Jean is still a child."

"What about my daughter?" asked Magnus, and Charles couldn't help feeling triumphant at the flicker of doubt those words created in Magnus's mind. Magnus still wasn't sure if Meggan really was his daughter. "Meggan's form is malleable; her mind and body conform to the desires of those around her. Gabrielle had a child's mind in a woman's body."  


  
"Meggan is a child. My image of her as such is too strong for me to set aside. Even if, heaven forbid, my subconscious transformed her into an adult woman, I would still perceive her as a four-year-old. I perceived Gabrielle as an adult woman, one who needed to adjust to the world around her, but one who would be expected to act and function as an adult. But Meggan is a child." Charles was relieved to find he believed his own words on every level. He'd been half afraid his subconscious would tell him something terrible he hadn't thought true of himself.

Magnus, at long last, was satisfied and closed his mind gently but firmly to the link. "I'll run the school while you're gone, Charles. Thank you for trying to help my daughter."

*****

Magnus kissed Meggan goodbye. The girl's skin was gray, and she shivered uncontrollably. Fur sprouted, but was too patchy to stop her chills. "Mine tachter," he murmured in Yiddish, too low for Charles to hear, "I shall see you soon, I promise. And you will be healthy and strong." He wrapped her in a blanket and strapped her into the copilot seat, where Charles could keep an eye on her. "Charles will take good care of you. Gei shlufei, Meggan."  


  
Charles's mental probes had proved as useless as his earlier, verbal questions. Meggan's age and her lack of control over her empathic and metamorphic powers had combined to make her past a meager collection of splinters of memory, impossible to interpret. Their only hope now was the kumpania where Magnus had found her.

"Good luck, Charles," said Magnus.  


  
"I'll let you know as soon as I find anything," said Charles. He strapped himself into the pilot's seat and started the engine.  


  
After the plane had taken off and disappeared from view, Magnus squeezed Scott's shoulder and turned to the other boys. "While Charles is gone, I will run the school my way. Is that clear?"  


  
"Yes sir," the boys chorused.  


  
"Good. You have half an hour to get changed and warm up, after which time I expect to see you all in the Danger Room."


	2. Chapter 2

"Control and endurance are all well and good," said Magnus, returning all the Danger Room equipment to its recessed cabinets with a scornful wave, "but it's time all four of you learned to survive. None of you are the sort to start a fight. When you are forced to use your skills, it will be to defend yourselves against either unreasoning bigots, who will outnumber you in mob strength, or criminals, who are fighting for their own survival and freedom, and thus will not hold back. You must learn to deal with superior numbers and with ferocious foes. You must learn to fight dirty and to use not only your powers, but also your bodies and whatever else is at hand. Warren, you will watch with me and not interfere. Hank, Scott, you will attack Bobby. The fight is not over until he or both of you are completely helpless and surrender. You will all be graded on your performance."

Hank and Scott started running towards Bobby, who iced the floor. The two attackers tumbled over each other, but Hank managed to free himself and leap off the wall and over Bobby's head--

Where he was hit by a shot of ice to the midsection just as Scott found his feet and shot Bobby's feet out from under him with an optic blast. But before he could aim again, Scott was buried in a mountain of snow, his optic blasts firing harmlessly at the ceiling.

Then Hank got Bobby in an arm lock and pushed him down on the ground. "I'd say we got an A for this assignment," said Hank. "Sorry, Bobby."

Magnus turned to Warren. "What grade would you give each of them?"  


  
Warren blushed beet red. "Huh? Oh, I don't know. I guess Hank and Scott should get A's and Bobby should get a B. Maybe he should get an A anyway, since he had the harder job."

"Next time, Mr. Worthington, pay attention. You had the advantage of observing the action without panic, free to think things through and analyze from outside. You get a D."

"What?" Warren yelled.  


  
"You can bring it up to a C if you can tell me how each of these three could have used teamwork to solve their problems."

"But Bobby couldn't have used teamwork at all!" Warren protested, his voice cracking.  


  
"Do you accept the D, then?" asked Magnus.  


  
"No!" Warren's eyes darted from one confused classmate to another. "Uh, um, Hank should have helped Scott get up when they both slipped."

"That's a possibility. But it would have put them so close together that Bobby could freeze them both at once."

"What if Hank had jumped all around Bobby, distracting him so Scott could get a better shot?"  


  
"Much better, Warren. What could Scott have done to save Hank?"  


  
"Shot the ice before it hit Hank in the stomach?" Warren hazarded.

"You're getting better at this. How could Bobby have used teamwork?"

"Um … he, uh…"  


  
Magnus decided to throw Warren a clue. "For our purposes, teamwork means combining powers to achieve your goals."

"Oh! Bobby could have used an ice slide to shoot Hank at Scott and crashed them into each other!"

"Excellent. You've won your C. I'll bring it up to a B if you can answer one last question. How could any of them have used the tools in the room to further their efforts?"

"The room was empty," said Warren, confused.

"You'll keep the C, then?" asked Magnus.  


  
"I guess I have to, sir. But I'm telling the truth."

"No, you're not looking properly. You and I are in effect civilian bystanders. Human shields. I never want any of you to use an innocent civilian or a crowd of onlookers as protection in a fight, but you have to be prepared for enemies who take hostages. If Hank or Scott had ducked behind me, Bobby would have thought twice about shooting ice or snow at them. Likewise if Bobby had used us for shelter. And in a real fight, if one of you could have escaped up to the control booth, you could have used the room itself to attack your enemy. If I don't lock the Danger Room door, assume you can do that. You each get a C for this assignment. Warren, I'm partnering you with Scott. Attack Hank. Bobby, you're the observer. Let's try this again."

*****

For the second time, John Grey brought his daughter up the gravel driveway to the mansion's front door, but this time his daughter held his hand and walked beside him, instead of sitting unresponsively in a wheelchair, and his wife walked beside them. Magnus opened the door for them. "Thank you for coming to see the school, Dr. Grey, Mrs. Grey. Hello, Jean," he said.

"Thank you for telling me about it," said John. "I'm surprised, though, that Charles isn't here."

"Charles is in Britain on important business," said Magnus. "As I said on the phone, the school is small, but growing. Charles and I felt there was a great need for a school that could push students to academic greatness, but still nurture them emotionally. We thought Jean would be an ideal candidate." He ushered the Greys to the sitting room. "Tea?"  


  
"Yes, please," said Mrs. Grey.  


  
Magnus took a ceramic pot from a little brazier in an alcove and poured cups for everyone.  


  
"How many other students do you have at this point?" asked John, "and what's the ratio of girls to boys?"  


  
"So far we have one girl and four boys," said Magnus. "My daughter Meggan; my son Scott; Warren Worthington the Third; Hank McCoy, a football and physics star; and Robert Drake, a gifted boy from Long Island. Since this is our first class, we decided to keep it small, so we can focus on students in one-on-one sessions modeled after the Oxford system."

"That's exactly the model we use at the college where I teach," said John.  


  
"It seemed to us the best system. For the most part, Charles and I teach the courses ourselves, but we have a teacher-in-residence plan which allows us to bring in specialists for a month or so to teach the children personally. Dr. Moira MacTaggert, an expert in biology, has agreed to come this year, possibly every year, and Dr. Reed Richards is expected to give several lectures and labs, when his schedule permits. We're negotiating with Ian Nelson of Oxford to come during his winter break to lecture on his writings and on classical English literature. In addition, we're trying to set up a correspondence program with Columbia University in New York. They're interested to see how high school students interpret college level material, and have expressed interest in taking our students after they graduate high school. Even if Jean chooses not to go to Columbia, this program will be a prestigious note on her college applications."  


  
"I'm a little concerned that Jean won't have many friends, if there's only one other girl here," said Mrs. Grey.  


  
"That's perfectly understandable. But the school is near enough to town that our students have easy access, and we've been invited to the local high school's mixers. There will be plenty of opportunity to make friends her own age in the area. And we'll keep accepting new students."

"Can we meet one of the students you have now?"  


  
"Of course. The boys are in their rooms studying for Monday's exam. If you'll follow me?"  


  
Magnus led them down the corridor to the dormitory section of the school and knocked on the first door, which was, not coincidentally, Warren's. The boy was neatly but casually dressed, his wings discreetly hidden with a harness under his sweater. He'd been more than cheerful about the possibility of sweet-talking Jean's parents when Magnus had approached him earlier that weekend, and Magnus had to admit, watching him charm the boots off of Jean and her parents, the boy had his father's brilliant people skills. Then Magnus took John and Elaine to discuss the financial aspects of Jean's education, and Magnus left Warren to discuss the true nature of the school with Jean in private. By the time Jean's parents were ready to go, Jean was the school's most eager advocate, begging to come back and start on Monday.  


*****

"Now Jean, I know it's been a while since you've worked in the Danger Room, but I expect you've been practicing your telekinesis in secret at home," said Magnus, and was rewarded with an embarrassed smile. "You'll be expected to perform in three kinds of sessions in the Danger Room: private lessons with me once a week, and the daily regimen of basic control and skill exercises and king-of-the-mountain scenarios where you will fight with and against combinations of students on different terrains. You will also be expected to keep up with the course load and to apply yourself to any homework or outside responsibilities with equal diligence. I will never make unreasonable demands on you, though you can argue with me if you feel I'm being unreasonable. But I expect you to perform to the best of your abilities, and will downgrade you if you do not. Is all of that clear?"  


  
"I've got one question, sir," said Jean.  


  
"Yes?"

"How am I supposed to train as well as the boys if I have to worry about my skirt flying up?" she asked, indicating the miniskirt of her uniform.

Magnus shot her a startled smile. For a moment she reminded him of the partisan girls he'd fought alongside. "Quite right. Go get one of the spare uniforms from the locker room."

A few minutes later, Jean emerged in the black and yellow body armor which protected her much better than its feminine version had. The belt fit her waist snugly, emphasizing the curve of her hips, and Magnus had a feeling the next few sessions would be ruined by the boys' hormonal reactions.

Nevertheless, it was time to start Jean's first group session. Magnus opened the door and let the boys in. But the moment Scott caught sight of Jean, he stopped like a prisoner facing down a gun barrel, frozen in mid-step. "Come along, all of you. This is Jean, our new student. Jean, this is Hank, Scott, Bobby and you already know Warren. We'll start with parallel sessions." With a few gestures he created a complex web of hoops and bars, a jungle-gym of labyrinthine proportions, suspended from the high ceiling. "Hank, Warren, I want you each to thread that maze, going for tighter and tighter control. Don't interfere directly with each other, but try and angle yourselves so you block each other's moves." He planned to release some flying bots to confuse the situation once the boys had their bearings.  


  
"Scott. Precision training. I want you to disable this computer array using the lightest, thinnest possible optic blast. Disable, not dismantle. Bobby, we need to work more on the speed at which you reduce an object's temperature. These wine glasses are extremely fragile, and will shatter if you chill them too fast. You have two minutes to reduce the temperature of each to minus thirty degrees Celsius without breaking them. After that, I'll ask you to freeze fruit so fast and so cold that it shatters on the floor when you drop it. Start … now."

"And finally, Jean. Until Charles returns, we cannot remove the blocks in your mind to work on your telepathy, but you still have your telekinesis. We'll play a little tug of war to test your strength." He lifted a heavy barbell with a thought. "Try to pull it towards you." He gently applied more and more force to keep the barbell in place until Jean was sweating with the strain of it. Meanwhile he mentally opened the metal door behind which the bots waited, and released them on Hank and Warren, smiling at the rather creative curses Hank came up with when panicked. This job did have its rewards.  


*****

Along with training the children in the use of their powers and in teamwork, Magnus began teaching them the fighting techniques he'd learned in Israel from his friends in the Haganah and the Irgun. Between those sessions and the daily academic workload, Magnus was physically and mentally exhausted. But every night he lay awake wondering where Charles was and how his daughter was doing. If anything was really wrong, Charles would have tried to contact him mentally, or even phoned, but Magnus couldn't help worrying at the endless silence from across the sea. Jean had asked, after a few days, where 'the other girl' was. Magnus had automatically snapped, "She's fine!" and then had struggled to choose better words to explain both the situation and his outburst.  


  
Scott had spoken first. "Meggan's sick. But she's going to get better."

"Professor Xavier is with her in England," Warren had added.

"What's wrong with her?" Jean had asked.

"Her powers don't work right," Bobby had said.  


  
"But she'll get better?" Jean had pressed.  


  
"Of course she will," Scott had said. "Dad and Professor Xavier fix us, and they don't stop until we're all right."

Magnus had sent them off to shower and change for class after that. But Scott's words had stayed with him, and late at night in his bed he wondered if the boy's faith in them was justified.

After another long night, Magnus decided to purge his worries by putting the teenagers through a grueling session in the Danger Room, pitting each one against the other four in turn. In her time at the school, Jean had proved to them that she wasn't a porcelain doll; and after some shock on her part at how strong they really were when they treated her as one of the guys, she'd fought back with just as much ferocity, creativity, and insults. Magnus found himself caught up in the intensity and enthusiasm of his students, even laughing it off when Hank ducked behind him and knocked him off his feet, using Magnus's natural defenses as a shield against Jean's telekinesis.  


  
"Excellent work, Hank." Magnus got to his feet and looked his students over with some measure of pride. "After one more session of this, I'm going to start pitting you against each other in teams, so you become aware of both your team and the enemy's. That will also mean no one is playing lone villain, so no one gets to use me as a shield again. Is that clear?"  


  
"Yes sir," came a chorus from the five grinning students.  


  
"Good. Let's make our last session a little more interesting. All five of you attack me." He grinned ferally and raised his shields just in time for the first optic blast.  


*****

That night, bruised, exhausted and happy, Magnus padded from the shower to his bed, too worn out to focus on anything but sleep. Then he felt a strange shift in the room's energy, and a portal of light opened in front of him.

Magnus snapped his shield up before realizing that one of the figures materializing was Charles. Beside Charles stood a man in a red, white and blue costume modeled after the Union Jack, and a dark-haired, elfin woman in simple robes, holding Meggan's hand. Meggan was in the semi-bestial form Magnus had originally found her in: webbed feet and hands, patches of fur, antennae, and all.

"Elkhanan Yigdal," the woman addressed Magnus, "I am Roma, daughter of his Universal Majesty, Merlin, and this is Captain Britain, my champion on this Earth."

The sound of his Hebrew name hit Magnus with a terror he hadn't felt in years. "You would do me a great service by calling me by my chosen name."  


  
"I am doing you a great service by coming here, Elkhanan. Do not presume to ask more of me. Fortunately, my father was detained elsewhere, or you would not even be given the choice I'm offering you.

"Meggan is a changeling, a creature native to Britain," said Roma. "Whenever she leaves its network of ley lines, she is cut off from the magic which sustains her life. She is not your child, and if she leaves Britain for too long, she will die. Captain Britain is already the father of three children, he is willing to adopt her if you relinquish your claim to her. It would be in her best interests. However, I can give her a portion of my own energy to sustain her outside of Britain, for a price, or you could relocate to Britain and raise her there."

"Captain Britain is a good man, Magnus," said Charles. "And he has two sons and a daughter. I met the younger son and the daughter, and they seem very well brought up." He added, pleading, "Magnus, it's not really Meggan's fault. She's young, and the gypsies treated her harshly. She wanted to believe you were her father, and she wanted to please you. I think it would be best for all concerned if Captain Britain took her."

Rage clenched Magnus's chest. The gypsy woman, Margali, had lied to him. She'd knowingly sent him on a wild goose chase after Meggan for some dark purpose. She'd made a fool of him. This wretched freak was none of his.  


  
But what would Scott say? The boy was still fragile from his history of abuse. Would he think Magnus could abandon him as easily as he'd abandoned Meggan? Magnus tried to think of what he could say to the boy, and couldn't think of anything that wouldn't drive a permanent wedge between them.  


  
And Charles. Instantly assuming Magnus would vent his anger on a child. Wanting to send her as far away from Magnus as possible.

Magnus looked at Meggan again, transformed to her ugliest form out of fear that he would reject her. Or maybe it was her true form, after all. Could this proud man, Captain Britain, understand what it meant to be wretched and hated? Could he give her the understanding she needed, or help her when children made fun of her? For that matter, what would Captain Britain's own children make of her appearance?

"Meggan's lineage doesn't matter to me," said Magnus, "I took her in as my child, and I won't abandon her now. But I have responsibilities to this school which I do not take lightly. What is your price?"

"I know that you are amassing an army of mutant children. My father ignores the possibilities, since it is based in America, rather than Britain. He is ancient, and often fails to realizes how modern technology can make distance irrelevant. In return for Meggan's health, I want your oath that you and your army will come to my aid one time, if I need you. I promise not to make the demand of you if it will mean the martyrdom of all your troops, nor if the specific request is completely reprehensible to you. But my world is changing, and I may need allies. Is that acceptable?"  


  
"Charles?" Magnus asked. "I can't decide for both of us."

"Magnus, I don't think this is a good idea. I don't like the thought of giving anyone carte blanche to use us as they will--"

"She made it clear we don't have to do anything too terrible," said Magnus.

"What about this healing spell? What if it fades or fails?" asked Charles. "Are you prepared to deal with that responsibility?"  


  
"What if Scott's glasses stopped blocking his optic blasts?" asked Magnus. "I would still be his father. Meggan is no different."  


  
"But Roma's father, Merlin, does not seem the most savory of characters. If he were to cash in this favor--"  


  
"My father knows nothing of this, and will have no power over you. I swear it." Roma said.

"Roma's a lady of her word," said Captain Britain. "My family has served her for thousands of years, and though Merlin's decrees are sometimes harsh or strange, Roma is to be trusted unequivocally. I'll gladly raise Meggan myself, she's a sweet girl, but if you want to accept Roma's offer, I see no problem with your making an alliance with her."

"I do want it," said Magnus.

Charles pulled Magnus aside and murmured, "She's not Anya. She never will be."

"I know that. But she is my daughter."

"What are you going to do? Keep collecting children until you find the right one? What if you never find your child, Magnus? How many children are you going to adopt? Where is it going to stop?"

"Meggan is my child," said Magnus. "I told her I was her father, and that I would never abandon her or hurt her. I will not go back on my word."

"But where does it stop, Magnus?" Charles pressed.  


  
"Not here."  


  
Charles was silent for a long time. Then he muttered, "Do what you will."  


  
Magnus stepped forward. "I want you to give Meggan your aid," he told Roma.

"Give me your word, then," said Roma. "Swear by your name."

For a brief moment, Magnus thought of protesting that he wasn't that Elkhanan anymore, or that Jews couldn't swear those kinds of oaths. But he was a man of his word; an oath wasn't that much different. "I, Elkhanan Yigdal ben Yosef, swear to aid Roma once in her hour of need, I and all those who follow me, in return for Meggan's health."

Roma gestured, and Meggan was sheathed in a filigree of golden light. For a moment she changed, becoming sylph-like, with eyes like a star-lit sky, inhuman and beautiful. Then she had changed back to the form she'd worn with Magnus, that of his dead daughter.

"I could see…" said Meggan, wondering. "Just for a second, I could see all the patterns…"  


  
"That was your true form. When you take it, your abilities increase greatly," said Roma. "It helped me set the field around you. But I must leave before my father inquires about my absence." With that, she vanished and took Captain Britain with her.

Magnus hugged Meggan and looked her over. "You look much better. How do you feel?"

"Elkhanan?" Charles asked, testing the word out doubtfully.

Magnus replied in Hebrew, "Call me that again and I'll beat you to death with my bare hands." Then in English, "Tell me about Roma and this Captain Britain. How did you find them?"

"I saw Captain Britain rescuing people from train wreckage. We couldn't help him, but afterwards I got his attention and asked him if he knew where I could find gypsy camps. When I explained the problem, he explained about the ley lines, which have a similar effect on his own powers, and invited us to his home to decide what would be best for Meggan. Roma's assistant, Opal Luna Saturnine, keeps an eye on all the Captain Britains in all alternate realities, and alerted Roma to the situation."

Magnus nodded. "Captain Britain sounds like a good ally. And if this oath turns out to jeopardize our students lives, I can appeal to him, father to father, to make Roma release us from our promise."  


  
"How has the school been in my absence?" asked Charles.

"Very well. I've changed the training regimen, made it more versatile," said Magnus. "It, ah, encourages teamwork. And I've recruited Jean as a student."

Charles smiled. "Thank you."

"She's settling in very well. And she's stronger and more spirited than I had realized earlier. I think you'll like her, Meggan," said Magnus. "If you'll excuse me, Charles, I should put her to bed."

When he returned from tucking her in and singing her to sleep, Magnus was surprised to find Charles still waiting for him in his room. "What is it?"  


  
"We need to talk about Meggan. It's obvious that she's only four years old, not ten as your daughter would be. We can't treat her like any of the other students; she's not developmentally ready. She's not even old enough for kindergarten."  


  
Magnus took a deep breath. "What do you suggest?"

"If we can teach her some control, she might do better in preschool in town."

"If those children hurt her…"  


  
"Then we'll remove her from the school and teach her at home or hire a mutant-friendly nanny. But we devote too much time and energy to the other students to take care of a preschooler full-time. We need to try it, at least. And it might do her some good to learn to socialize with peers."

"We'll try it," Magnus agreed. "Charles, we have to find that witch, Margali. She must have misled me for a reason. She might know where my real child is. She might have done something to my child."  


  
"The device I've been working on, Cerebro, is almost ready. We can use it to track her. And I may be able to configure it to look for biopatterns similar to yours, to track your child. But Magnus," Charles added softly, "I think it's time you accepted the possibility that you might not have a child out there somewhere, or that you might never find him or her. You could search forever. When are you going to stop?"

"When I find my child, and not before," Magnus growled. "That witch knows more than she said. We will find her, and we will discover what she's hiding. And she will pay for keeping me from my child."  


  
End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Erik Magnus has no Hebrew equivalent, so I chose the most likely candidate, which translates as God's Mercy, Great One. In Jewish legend, Elkhanan was a Jewish boy kidnapped by Christians, who rose to become Pope and later died with his people.

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Mine tachter = my daughter. Gei shlufei=go to sleep.


End file.
